Avast,
ye scurvy dogs! Welcome back. Some interesting stuff for you this
time out, starting with one of our favorite genres here in The
Electric Theatre. Yep, it's time for yet another
left-leaning documentary! I sure know how to show you a good time,
don't I?

The
A-Picture - Who Killed the Electric Car?

I hate cars. I concede their usefulness and admit to loving road
trips, drive-ins and a good car chase in the movies. But I hate
driving, hate the constant maintenance cars require, and think that
probably about half the drivers on the road today should have their
licenses revoked. If this means that I was predisposed to like this
expose about the short life and mysterious death of the electric
car, so be it. In 1990, the state of California passed the Zero
Emissions Mandate, a law aimed at curbing pollution that required a
certain percentages of all vehicles sold in the state be
emission-free. Within the next several years, auto manufacturers led
by GM introduced electric vehicles that were just that. Today,
they're all gone, as is the Mandate. Whodunit? In classic Agatha
Christie style, everybody. Director Chris Paine does a great job
putting the story together, laying out the facts in broad strokes,
then going back to take a closer look at each of the suspects,
including the auto industry, the government, even consumers like you
and me. Most interesting is information about the fuel alternatives
that are being pursued today, including hydrogen fuel cells. I'd
have liked to hear more about the hybrids that are on the road today
and how they compare to the electric car, though the reasons why the
Japanese are leading the way in this technology now is eye-opening.
This is a better film than An
Inconvenient Truth, the other eco-doc now playing. That
film suffered a bit due to its over-reliance on just one voice, no
matter how well-informed Al Gore may or may not be. Paine interviews
a wide range of individuals from all sides of the debate, including
(inevitably, since this is a California story) celebs like Mel
Gibson. Who Killed the Electric Car?
isn't quite a great documentary. Some economic realities of the
electric car, such as the fact that you pretty much had to be a
homeowner in order to have one so you could have some place to plug
it in, are glossed over a bit too lightly. But it remains a
fascinating and ultimately frustrating story. By the film's
conclusion, you'll be amazed any progress is ever made in the auto
industry. (* * *)

Pirates of the Caribbean:
Dead Man's Chest

First off, let me say that I consider Pirates
of the Caribbean to be one of the great masterpieces of
the 20th century. No, not the movie. The ride at Disneyland. And
yes, I'm serious. There's something about it that's so compelling
and immersive that I find endlessly fascinating. As soon as the
ride's over, I want to get back in line and do it again despite the
fact that I know exactly what's going to happen and that I'll never
enjoy it as much as I did that first time. That's basically the same
feeling I was hoping for from Dead Man's
Chest and happily, that's what I got. The first Pirates
movie succeeded for three reasons. First of course is Johnny Depp's
endearingly eccentric performance as Captain Jack Sparrow. Second is
that it was a genuinely well-made piece of popcorn entertainment
with plenty of exciting action set-pieces and some good laughs.
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, is that our expectations were
low. Really, did anybody expect anything from a movie based on a
theme park ride? Dead Man's Chest
has those first two bases covered but the third is gone and can
never be recaptured. Even so, I found much to enjoy about this
installment and got pretty much exactly what I wanted. The action
is, if anything, even more spectacular and over-the-top. Depp does
what he did in the first movie, so if you didn't like him there, you
won't like him here, either. Likewise, if you're expecting some sort
of deepening of the characters, you'll probably be disappointed.
Then again, you should probably have your head examined for wanting
these living cartoons to grow as individuals. I was glad to see
virtually everybody from the first movie return and enjoyed the
performances of newcomers Stellan Skarsgård as Bootstrap Bill
Turner and Bill Nighy as the tentacle-faced Davy Jones. Like the
first movie, Dead Man's Chest
goes on a bit too long. Also, the decision to end with a cliffhanger
shoves the series uncomfortably into saga territory when I think it
would have been better served as a trilogy of unrelated adventures.
Even so, Dead Man's Chest is
an enjoyable romp. I sat down wanting to see pirates, sea monsters,
exciting action and Johnny Depp swanning about in eye shadow for a
couple hours and the filmmakers delivered those elements in spades.
The novelty may have worn off but Pirates
of the Caribbean is still a fun ride.
(* * *)

A Scanner Darkly

The mindbending work of Philip K. Dick has been notoriously
difficult to adapt to film. Even when the end result is a good
movie, like Blade Runner, it
still manages to miss capturing the essence of Dick's original
story. We don't even need to talk about what happens when the end
result is a lousy movie, like Paycheck.
Richard Linklater's A Scanner Darkly
comes closer than most to nailing it. Animated in the same
pioneering rotoscope technique Linklater used in Waking
Life, A Scanner Darkly
follows Bob Arctor (Keanu Reeves), an undercover narcotics agent who
has become hooked on the hallucinogen Substance D to maintain his
cover. His paranoia only intensifies when he's assigned to
surveillance detail on himself. You see, Bob's superior doesn't know
who Bob really is, their identities concealed within scramble suits
that turn them into a blurry pastiche of different faces and bodies.
So when one of Bob's roommates (Robert Downey Jr.) turns narc and
suggests that he has evidence connecting him to terrorists, Bob
becomes the primary focus of his own investigation. No question,
it's all fairly confusing but if you pay attention, it's far from
insurmountable. Linklater does a great job capturing the paranoia
and shifting realities of Dick's novel. Despite that, A
Scanner Darkly eventually began to grate on my nerves.
The animation was used far more effectively in Waking
Life, a movie I really didn't expect to like but did. In
that movie, the fluid animation effectively became the movie,
capturing the dream state and flowing naturally from one scene to
the next. Here, with a narrative (no matter how disjointed) to
follow, it becomes distracting. Equally distracting are the
performances and dialogue. I honestly don't know if I should blame
Linklater's script or the delivery by Woody Harrelson, Robert Downey
Jr., Winona Ryder and Rory Cochrane (amazingly, Keanu is the least
irritating performer in the cast). At times, such as the scene in
the tow truck where Harrelson, Downey and Reeves bicker about
Downey's leaving the door of their house unlocked, I wanted to cover
my ears and shout Please just stop talking! I like
Richard Linklater and admire him for making risky, experimental
movies like this. But in the end, I found A
Scanner Darkly easier to appreciate in theory than in
practice. It's a noble effort but for me anyway, it didn't quite
gel. (* * ½)

To conclude, I thought I'd initiate a new feature into The
Electric Theatre. From the comments I get, it seems that
most of you sadists get quite a charge out of when I endure
something truly terrible. So on weeks like this where I dodged a
bullet and somehow managed to miss seeing something Hell
Plaza-worthy, I'm going to shine the cold, harsh light of
contempt on one of the worst movies I've ever suffered through.
Don't worry, I've seen quite a few, so there should be plenty.

Inducted
Into the Hell Plaza Octoplex Hall of Shame...

Bolero

It takes a lot for me to not want to see Bo Derek naked. Back in
the mid 1980s, it took even more. John Derek's excruciating Bolero
manages to do the impossible. Bo stars as a self-proclaimed rich
bitch determined to lose her virginity (yes, it's a fantasy)
in the most romantic and extravagant way possible. Her first attempt
with a sheik doesn't pan out, despite him pouring honey on her naked
body. This may be the least erotic scene in movie history, as the
backlit sheik rises from her belly with snotty ropes of honey
hanging off his nose and chin. She eventually finds true love with a
bullfighter in Spain but he loses his... ahem, virility in an
accident. Bo vows that he will rise again. The climactic love scene
takes place in a fog-shrouded netherworld beneath a neon sign that
reads extasy. George Kennedy, apparently hard-up for
work after the disaster movie cycle of the 70s waned in popularity,
co-stars as Bo's extremely tolerant butler/chauffeur. This movie is
painfully bad and mind-numbingly dull. John Derek was an inept
filmmaker (I could dedicate an entire wing of the Hell
Plaza Octoplex Hall of Shame to his movies) but in
retrospect may have been something of a genius as a psychologist. If
his aim was to ensure that no man would ever again lust after his
gorgeous wife, he succeeded beyond his wildest expectations.

Finito! I'll catch you all in a couple weeks. I have no idea what
I'll be seeing between now and then but you can probably be fairly
confident that it will not include Little
Man.